


i want trees instead of gravestones

by whymylife (nabringa)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: (kinda?), Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Bonding, Character Study, Child Soldiers, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is a Good Big Brother, References to Depression, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tim Drake is Red Robin, how to live when you want to die, just two bros talking through their trauma, maybe in-character Tim Drake, of a sort, wildly ooc Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nabringa/pseuds/whymylife
Summary: “You can’t go out at night and do what we do if you’re not invested in making it back in one piece.”A pissed off Jason and a sligtly-more-depressed-than-he-realized Tim run into each other, and end up talking it out with minimal bloodshed.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 19
Kudos: 297





	i want trees instead of gravestones

**Author's Note:**

> CW for vaguely suicidal thoughts and actions, as well as suicidal idealization. 
> 
> This holds to no official timeline that I am aware of, just go with it I guess??? 
> 
> Title from the song Big Houses by Squalloscope.

Red Robin paused briefly on the edge of Red Hood’s territory. After Jason came back to Gotham-- but while Bruce had still been ‘dead’-- Dick and Jason had managed to come to an agreement over who patrolled where, and even with Bruce back in town both sides had stuck to the arrangement. The arrangement that included a strict 'no trespassing into each other’s territory without explicit permission' clause. Tim watched the tracker signal on the mob thug he’d been trailing for the last hour enter the Narrows, and stood just shy of the invisible line to assess his options. 

Really, he should call Jason and ask if it was ok to swing through. Explain the situation with Falcone’s man and the information he was hoping to get out of him. Jason would probably be cool with it. Might even keep an eye out for the guy. On the other hand, Tim was closing in. It wouldn’t take more than thirty minutes or so to catch up to the mob boss, ask him a few questions, and drag him back out of the Narrows and in the direction of the GCPD. Tim and Jason weren’t on great terms, so there was always a chance Jason would say no, and then Tim would have to postpone his investigation until this guy chose to wander back into the parts of Gotham he had access too. 

Tim suddenly felt exhausted at the thought of putting off this investigation any longer, either by the minutes it would take to call Jason and wheedle permission out of him or by the hours and days it could take for this guy to be back in reach if he didn’t. It was too much. He just wanted to get this over with, and adjusting his plan in any way felt like a gargantuan effort. 

So instead of calling Jason or lurking on the edge of the Narrows for the remainder of the night, Tim took a step over the invisible line. 

***

Thirty minutes later Tim had not only lost the tracker signal on his guy, but run straight into none other than the Red Hood. A very pissed Red Hood, who took one look at Tim’s familiar costume, dropped the mugger he’d been in the middle of punching out, and charged. Considering that Tim had only recently come back to Gotham, they hadn’t really had a chance to… Catch up. At least, not since the last time Jason tried to kill him. Tim kept tabs on his location and operations, sure. Asked Dick for the occasional update on health and general wellbeing. But Tim and Jason hadn’t spoken a word to each other in nearly two years. Essentially, Tim had no way to know what Jason had been up to, or what his mental state was. Judging from the muffled swearing coming from under the helmet and aggressive body language, it probably wasn’t great. 

Jason was packing a full arsenal, though he had yet to draw a gun. Probably wanted to do his dirty work up-close and personal, like last time. Tim had no back-up and no excuse. No way to escape except to get the hell out of the Narrows. Tim led him on a chase through alleys and over rooftops, but in the end, nobody knew this side of town better than Jason. 

Cornering Tim on an apartment rooftop, Jason pulled off his helmet and threw it to the side. Green fire blazed in his eyes, and for a moment Tim felt fear spark in his gut, before cold apathy drowned it out. Jason’s hand closed around his neck, and Tim was slammed none too gently against the door to the roof entrance. He could feel a lump forming against the back of his head. His feet weren’t quite touching the ground. Breathing was starting to take effort. 

“I’ve had it up to here with you damn bats.” Jason casually pulled a knife out the sheath strapped to his thigh, resting the tip in the hollow of Tim’s throat, right over the scar from last time. “We made a deal. And that deal involved not having to see your ugly mug on my side of town.”

Tim could feel his pulse against the tip of the knife, pounding in ears, throbbing in his fingertips. He was right back where he’d been two years ago, pinned by Jason’s larger frame and bloody hands. Only this time, there was no escape. No-one coming to save him. He was going to die here, bleeding out alone on a rooftop. 

That thought didn’t scare him like it should have. 

He wasn’t sure what emotion exactly was curling in his stomach, but it almost felt like relief. 

Tim closed his eyes, already lightheaded from lack of oxygen. There wasn’t anything urgent happening tomorrow at WE, so they had plenty of time to hire a new CEO. Cassie was already leading the Titans more often than not. The other bats could pick up his cases easily enough. Pity Falcone’s man managed to find and destroy the tracker. That info would have come in handy for whoever took over the investigation. 

Breathing one last shallow breath, Tim let his whole body relax; let his hands drop away from Jason’s wrist and his knees go limp, sagging against Jason’s hold. The tip of the knife pierced his skin, and a warm trickle started down his neck. 

Jason dropped him like a rock. 

Tim landed on his knees, gasping for breath, one hand automatically going to his neck. 

“What the fuck was that.” Jason’s voice was flat, his previous rage tightly reigned in. 

“You were-- I thought you were going to kill me.” 

"And you were just gonna let me?" 

Tim kept his focus on the ground, breathing deeply and mentally categorizing his injuries. A lump on the head, but the skin didn't break. Nothing serious. Some minor bruising and a pinprick cut. Jason had really held himself back. 

“You--” Jason cut off, briefly lost for words. Briefly. 

“I wasn’t going to fucking kill you, you suicidal moron! I was going to threaten you a little bit, remind you why you stay on your side of the tracks. Get a message across. You bats think you can do whatever you want in Gotham? Well, guess what. I’m looking out for this side of town now. I’ve got it under much better control than B ever did, and you guys can’t keep walking all over my operations. If you break your side of the agreement, there are consequences.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Tim stood slowly, shrugged. 

“Unbelievable. You just waltzed over to my side of town, casually broke the truce we’ve had going for almost a year now, and decided-- in the middle of a fight you could have won with your eyes closed-- that today was as good a day as any to die? What the fuck?”

“What do you want me to say?” 

“I want you to apologize and then call Dick or Bruce to take you home.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Damn straight.”

“Can I go now?”

“No, you can’t go now. You’re gonna sit your ass down and wait with me for whoever is coming to get you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Obviously, you do.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?” Tim snapped. “I’m not suicidal, Jason. I’m not going to jump off a bridge on my way home.”

“Like I’m gonna trust you after that stunt you just pulled.”

“You’re the one who attacked me in the first place!”

“And you’re the one who didn’t fight back!” 

Jason paused, panting. Tim didn’t dare move a muscle. After a moment Jason sighed, rubbing a gloved hand over his eyes. 

“Tim. You can’t go out at night and do what we do if you’re not invested in making it back in one piece.”

“I’m not suicidal!” 

“Wanting to die, wanting to be dead, it isn’t just when you start planning elaborate suicide attempts. It’s when you stop caring about your wellbeing. When you stop working to stay alive. Yeah, sure. There’s intrusive thoughts and self-harm and stuff thrown into that. But when you stop caring about your life and your body, that’s the first sign that you don’t want them anymore.” 

“I do care. I’ve got friends and family, I’ve got stuff to do. It’s not like I want to die, Jason. I take care of myself just fine.”

“Your suit is loose, so you lost weight suddenly and recently. Your voice is hoarse, your reaction time is down, your hair is greasy, and you have some pretty serious bags under your eyes. Doesn’t look like you’ve been taking great care of yourself to me.” 

“So I could use a shower and a nap, big deal. You try patrolling Gotham, working with the Teen Titans, and being a full-time CEO. Some things take priority.”

“Over eating and sleeping?”

“Yup.”

“Come on, Tim.”

“I’m. Fine. I’m getting everything done, and that’s what matters. Just because I let some things slip does not mean I want to die. I’m not planning anything. And I’m not actively giving criminals the opportunity to kill me, either.” 

“As soon as I got my hands on your neck you gave up. I know you know how to break the hold I used. You’ve done it before. You picked a fight with me and then gave up half-way through. You’re trying to get me to do your dirty work for you.”

“No! That’s not--”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“... I wasn’t thinking that. I just… I stopped caring, I guess. Got tired of fighting.”

“Sounds an awful lot like you don’t particularly want to live.”

“No, not really. Not like I’ve got a great life expectancy in this line of work, anyway. What’s the point in prolonging the inevitable? On top of that, my life is not actually significant in the grand scheme of things. I’m a placeholder. When I die, someone else will step up to fill my spot and everything will go on like it did before, except I won’t be the one who has to stress out about Gotham burning to the ground every other weekend.” 

Jason raised a single condescending eyebrow, and Tim realized that this maybe wasn’t what a completely mentally healthy person would say. 

“Not liking my life and wanting to be dead are two different things.”

“Yeah, but not the way you phrased it.”

“I don’t-- I swear. Jason. I’m not trying to kill myself. I just… I’ve been thinking about how much effort being alive takes. Everything requires twice as much energy to do as before, and I’m tired all the time, and… I’m not always sure the effort is worth it.” 

After a second Jason nodded slowly, and Tim relaxed minutely. Maybe Jason understood. Maybe he would realize Tim was fine-- perhaps processing a mid-vigilante-life crisis?-- and let him go. 

“So, you don’t want to die. You just don’t want to be responsible for the fate of the world anymore. Which is completely reasonable.”

“I guess.”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but have you ever thought about retiring?” 

“Shut up, Jason.”

“No, I’m serious. This whole caped vigilante thing is dragging you down. Quit.”

“I can’t quit.”

“You just said yourself that you’re a placeholder! Quit and let someone else worry about Gotham.”

“I can’t.”

“This job is going to kill you. You’re going to let it kill you.”

“I’m not quitting.”

“Why?” 

“Because I don’t have anything else!”

Tim cut himself off, gesturing helplessly as he tried to regain control of whatever emotions were welling up inside him. “You don’t understand, Jay. If I quit the vigilante business I lose my family, my friends, the last five years of my life. I don’t… I don’t have anything else besides this. I cut all ties to my old life when I forced myself into this one, and now I’m stuck here.” 

Jason didn’t respond to that immediately, instead letting the silence settle over the two of them. With a sigh, he sat on the edge of the rooftop, looking up at Tim and patting the ledge beside him in an invitation. Crossing his arms defensively over his chest, Tim met Jason’s gaze and glared. Jason regarded him calmly, clear blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. 

Tim sat. Jason turned his gaze back to the Gotham skyline. 

“So,” Jason finally asked. “Can’t live with it, can’t live without it, huh?”

“... Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You have the exact same problem as B, you know that? You keep taking on more and more responsibility until you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. The difference is that Bruce learned how to delegate. Or, Dick forced him to learn how to delegate. You were right about Batman needing a Robin, in some ways. Batman does not need a kid in tights following him around the city at night, but he does need a team to back him up and share his burdens. A city is pretty heavy to carry around alone all the time.” 

“I’m aware. And. I don’t want to do this anymore.” It was true. Tim hadn’t known how true it was until he said it out loud, but it was true. His chest was starting to ache for some reason. “I really don’t. But. I’m stuck. I mean, as far as the vigilante underground goes, I am replaceable. If I left, or died, nothing would change. But this job isn’t replaceable for me. I built my life around it, and if I leave it behind I leave everything.” 

“You’re right and you’re wrong.”

“Jason, I’ve thought about this a lot, and--”

“No. Listen to me. You’re right. Functionally? You are replaceable, Tim. Everybody is replaceable. There is not a single job or position or role you have that could not be filled if you left. Or died. But you know where you’re wrong? You are not replaceable. There is-- and only ever will be-- one Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

“I’m not some special snowflake.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. People can’t replace you in their lives, Tim. Damn it, you’re the one who tried to convince me of that when I first came back. You’re not going to lose your friends or family if you hang up your cap, because you’re more than just a vigilante they work with sometimes. You're a son, and a brother, and a friend. Hell, you’re the one who was referring to them as family and friends! Those relationships aren’t just gonna disappear or transfer to the next vigilante that comes along to take your spot.” 

“But I built all those relationships through Robin, and if I’m not Robin or Red Robin or wearing a mask of some kind to fight crime every night, there’s no more common ground.”

“Those relationships may have started out like that, but ‘son’ and ‘friend’ aren’t synonyms for ‘sidekick’ and teammate’.”

“I won’t have anything to offer anymore.”

“Ya know,” Jason’s lips twitched in a smirk. “‘Tim Drake’ is not synonymous with ‘Red Robin’ either. You can kick ass, sure. But that’s not why people like you. You’re smart and funny and stuff, too. I’m pretty sure. We don’t hang out much-- understandably-- but I know there’s more to like about you than your left hook.”

“No, I’m serious. This isn’t just about relationships. If I don’t know how to do anything other than fight, what am I supposed to do with my life if I hang up my cape?”

“Sounds like you’ve been doing a pretty good job with WE. Sure you don’t want to just do that full time?” 

“I never wanted to take over. I had to, to keep our cover. I’m good at it, sure. But it’s like the vigilante thing. It’s something I’m good at, and I’ve made it a big part of my life, but running a company isn’t something I really enjoy doing.”

“Then quit. Go to college or something. Take a trip around the world. Take some time off and figure out who you are and what you want.” 

“But that’s not-- I want to be helpful, Jason! I don’t want to be the type of person who wallows in my own issues instead of doing something useful for the world. That’s one thing I do know. I want to help people.” 

“What I’m trying to get through your thick skull is that you don’t have to be useful or needed or whatever to be worth something to the world. Why do you think we make a big deal about art and books and shit like that? Endless supply. Functionally useless in day to day life. But, they make the world a little bit better and a little more interesting just by existing. People are like that too. Billions of us just wandering around. Not always useful in day to day life. But something about each individual’s existence makes it worth the trouble of trying to keep them around and alive and stuff. You’re not special. You’re just another human. But in a way, that’s enough. The world doesn’t need special, indispensable people. It just needs lots of different kinds of people. Lots of individuals. Lots of contrast. People who make the world a little bit better and a little bit more interesting just by existing. People like you, Tim.”

“There’s lots of people like me.”

“There are and there aren’t. There are people who can do what you can, but nobody who can be you. I need you to understand this, because you are not your job. You are not the labels you fall under. You are an individual, with a soul, and once you’re gone? That’s it.”

“... You came back.”

“No I didn’t.” 

Tim gave him A Look. 

“I’m serious.” The smirk was gone. “I’m not the same Jason.” 

“You went through a traumatic exp--”

“No,” Jason cut him off almost viciously. “Don’t start with that. It’s not just that I went through some trauma and grew up. And that’s the problem. Jason Peter Todd-Wayne? He died in that warehouse. He’s not coming back. I have his face and his past, sure. I was born from his ashes. But I am not him. I don’t have his scars or his body-- hell, I’m not even sure I have all of his memories. I don’t think about life or death the same way he did, and I don’t have the same relationships with people or with Gotham that he did. I think that’s part of the reason everything was so bad with Bruce. Because. He wanted Jason back, and couldn’t accept that was never going to happen. Couldn’t accept that I’m not the same kid he knew and loved and fathered. Couldn’t stomach the fact that I wore his face and flaunted his past and yet wouldn’t slip back into his life. It’s not my life. It was Jason’s. And Jason died. And… Jason is not replaceable.”

Tim couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto his face at that remark. “Not replaceable, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason rolled his eyes. “Taking a dip Ra’s miracle water did not do much for my cerebral cortex, let me tell ya.” 

“You seem… A lot more calm than you used to be.” 

“Well, we haven’t caught up in a while. I had a couple years to work through stuff, and some friends to work through it with. Not all the way sane all the time though, believe me. Dying and coming back is one hell of a trip, baby bird. And I wasn’t the peak of mental health to begin with.” 

That’s right. Jason had been dead. Tim wasn’t sure he wanted to ask, but he knew he wanted an answer. “Do you remember? Being dead?”

“I… No. Not really.” Jason looked down at his hands, fiddling with the straps on his gloves. Tim waited. With a sigh, Jason looked up and out over Gotham, not quite subtle enough about avoiding Tim’s gaze. “I remember… I was at peace. I think. In between the warehouse and the coffin. Whenever I wonder about the space in between, I get this really calm feeling. When I first woke up I was terrified and furious and all that, but I also remember feeling sad. Like I had lost something precious and knew I wasn’t going to get it back anytime soon.” 

Tim let his head fall back, searching for stars beyond the light pollution. “Peace, huh?”

“It doesn’t exist solely in death, you know,” Jason titled his head up and regarded Tim. “There’s peace to be found even in a city like Gotham, if you look for it.” 

“Where?” Tim whispered so softly he wasn’t sure Jason heard. “Where do I look?”

“Heh. Lots of places. Books. Good food. People. Anywhere beauty exists. If you slow down and breathe for a second, you’ll see it.”

“Not very good at that. Slowing down.”

“You and Bruce and your complexes. Holy shit. The world isn’t going to end if you take a day off.” 

“Feels like that sometimes.”

“Listen, we help because we want to. Not because we have to. We make a choice every time we put on a mask, and just because you say yes one day doesn’t mean you can’t say no the next. It’s like sex.”

“Ugh, Jason--”

“No! This is actually a really good analogy, I promise! It’s not even dirty.”

“Oh my-- Fine. Whatever.”

“Ha. Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, being a vigilante is like having sex. You have to say yes, enthusiastically, every single time. And when you stop enjoying it, you get to back out. It’s great when you’re in the mood, but it’s terrible when you’re not. It’s not an obligation, ever, in any way. You can’t force other people into it, and you can’t try to keep them in when they want out.”

“This is the weirdest analogy I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah. But it makes sense, right?”

“... Yeah, it really does. If you think of being a vigilante as a choice instead of an obligation.” 

“Isn’t it?”

“If I have the abilities, shouldn’t I use them for good?”

“First of all,” Jason held up one gloved finger. “I’m not telling you to stop using your abilities for good. I’m telling you to look for a new outlet. Second of all, you don’t owe anybody anything. They’re your abilities, and you get to decide when and how you use them. Nobody else has a claim on your body or your intellect. No matter how much good you can do with them.”

“Find a new outlet?” Tim scoffed. “You really think I’ll be able to just stop?”

“Sure.”

“You couldn’t.”

“... Excuse me?”

“You had the perfect opportunity. Legally dead, no close family or friends. You could have packed up your guns and found a new city and forged a new identity and been done with the whole vigilante deal. It took so much more from you than it took from any of the rest of us, and yet you're still out here.”

“I made my choice. I guess…” Jason ran a hand through his hair, subconsciously tugging at the white streak, lips pressed in a rueful smile. “I guess I am a little bit of a hypocrite. This is what I have left, this is what I know how to do. I’ve dug myself pretty deep into this city, and I feel like I can’t just back out. But. That’s a conscious decision I make every day. And,” a wolfish grin spread slowly across Jason’s face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I enjoy this life. Flying still feels like freedom to me. And, like you said, if I ever got tired of it it’s not like I’m stuck.” 

“I am.”

“Yeah. You are. I’m trying to tell you, you don’t have to be.”

“But what if… But what if I can’t stop?” And that was the problem, wasn’t it? “What if I can’t figure out how to not do this anymore?”

“Here’s the thing, Timbo,” Jason reached out and grabbed Tim’s arm, pulling the younger boy around to face him. “If you keep giving and giving and giving without getting anything in return, eventually you’re gonna run out of stuff to give. You’re gonna bleed yourself dry. You don’t have much time left on the field either way. I’m trying to tell you to get out before another Robin dies on the job.” 

“What if I don’t want to, huh?” Tim snapped, yanking his arm away. “What if I’m happy just bleeding out and fading away if it means I don’t have to keep dragging myself out of bed every morning?”

“Do you honestly think you'll never be happy as long as you’re alive?”

“... What?”

“Do you really think you will be better off dead? That you will never have another good day? That you will never be relaxed or loved or at peace ever again?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Then take a chance, and keep living. You don’t know what the future holds. It might all be bad, but it might be good, too. Fifty-fifty chance, right?” 

“That…” Tim swallowed the lump in his throat. “That makes sense. I guess.” 

“Hell yeah it does.”

Tim shifted back around to look over the skyline and then down to the alley below, pulling his arms close to his body. The streetlights shimmered in the puddles of oil spotting the dirty asphalt. 

“So,” Tim cleared his throat. “Quit the life I built, build a new one, and be happy. Simple as all that, huh?” 

“Not simple, but not impossible, either.”

“See,” Tim released the breath he’d been holding, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I care enough to want something better. I want to want something better, but right now… I just don’t. The thought of working to change the way things are… I can’t do it. I don’t have the strength. The willpower.”

“One step at a time, baby bird.” Tim felt a warm hand settle on his back. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know. And you don’t have to do it all at once. And you won’t be alone. I promise. I’m sure B will be thrilled when you march into the Cave and declare you wanna be a civilian. And. I’ll be there, if you want. I can keep the others who are less understanding off your back.” 

Tim looked up-- “Really?”

“Of course.” 

\-- And breathed in deeply and slowly, feeling the knot in his chest loosen for the first time all night. “... I’m really going to do this.”

“Course you are.”

“And you’re really going to help me.”

“Course I am.”

“I… Thank you, Jason.”

“My pleasure, Timbers.”

“Hey, Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you take me home?”

“Sure, baby bird.”

They climbed down from the roof and walked in the direction of Jason’s motorbike, steps slow and measured. Jason cradled his helmet in one arm, the other wrapped around Tim’s shoulders like a blanket. As they neared the bike, Tim finally put into words something that had been bothering him throughout the entirety of their conversation.

“Where did all this advice come from? You aren’t usually so...” Tim's forehead creased as he struggled to find the right word.

“Articulate?” Jason laughed. “Heads up, bird brain. I’ve always been a book nerd. Got A’s on my papers and everything. But no. I’m not getting this from bullshit brochures, if that’s what you're asking. I know this stuff because I lived it. When my sanity started to come back after-- After. When I could think again and remembered all the stuff I’d done and realized I’d pushed away anyone who could help me and was basically up the creek without a paddle, I had to do a lot of thinking about who I was and who I wanted to be. If there was a future for me. If there was a chance I could ever be happy again. There was a lot to sort through, as I’m sure you can imagine. I mean, you knew what I was like when I first got back to Gotham. You were there.”

“Got the scars to prove it.” Tim reached up and gingerly scraped at the thin line of dried blood on his neck, avoiding the bruises to trace the faded scar underneath.

“I, uh. I apologized for that, right?”

“Nope.”

“Oops. Sorry, baby bird. I truly did not want you dead.”

“It’s alright." Tim shrugged as best he could. "What’s a little attempted murder between brothers, anyway?”

“Shut up. It was fucked up and you know it.”

“It’s not like you’re the only brother who tried to kill me.” Welp. He said it. 

Jason stopped on the sidewalk abruptly. “... Excuse me?”

Might as well go all in. “You know how Damian kinda hates me?”

“Damian hates everyone.” 

“Well, yeah. But. He, uh. Tried to kill me a few times. Back in the early days. Cut my grapple line and stuff.”

“And… What did B do about this?”

“Um. Nothing?”

“Is he still trying to kill you?”

“No. He’s mellowed out a lot, actually. Hasn’t apologized, but he did stab a guy in the arm for me last time we patrolled together, so I know he doesn’t want me dead anymore.”

Jason sucked in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then let it out slowly, squeezing Tim just a little bit closer as they continued walking. “Fuck Bruce. And fuck Goldie, too. If the demon brat ever goes after you again, you come to me, got that?”

“Um. Yeah, sure.”

“I said, you got that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“... Thank you.”

“Least I can do.”

Silence rested over them as they climbed onto the bike, Tim giving Jason directions to his closest safe house. Wrapping his arms tight around his big brother’s waist, Tim settled in for the ride home.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy... So this is the story where my theater brain took over and was like 'dialogue. everything is going to be dialogue. that is how you solve conflict.' and I was like 'dialogue it is then'. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed two brothers giving and receiving life advice for a solid 5k!


End file.
